Chapter 4 Ezra
Suggested Listening: Jumper by Third Eye Blind
The memories of my parent’s abuse have been hidden behind what I can only describe as this black fog in my mind.
Over the years, therapists and psychologists have had a wide range of methodologies and opinions about my mind’s way of protecting itself.
I suppose that’s why it feels as though everything is happening at a great distance to someone else right now.
My mind has fled into the dark recesses to protect itself once again.
Even the way I’m thinking about my mind in relation to myself is distant. Disjointed.
Sounds come out of my mouth, but it’s not really me making them.
My limbs pull against the restraints, but it’s not really me in the driver’s seat.
My eyes blink, but it’s not really me in control.
I’m an observer, seeing it all through a clouded glass.
A single golden feather protrudes from my chest like an arrow.
I vaguely recall getting shot with one before blacking out, though I can’t trust my memory.
There’s a haziness. I might have had that one removed or pulled it out myself.
I seem to recall some sort of a scuffle before it becomes too difficult to recall.
Whatever the feather is doing to me, it’s quite effective. My limbs are weak. My hands tremble. There’s a sick, woozy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t quite hold it all away from my consciousness. Some of it is leaking through to me. This is happening to me, after all. Not someone else.
“What is he? What is he? What is he?” Treznor raves, each inquiry louder and more forceful than the last.
My eyes roll back and my lids lift, so I get another momentary glimpse of the room.
But that’s about as much as I can move. My body is strapped to what I think is a table off to one side of what I now realize is a throne.
I’ve been here for… I’m not quite sure how long.
Things have begun to blur together. I haven’t been conscious for all of it.
There’s something about the feathers that makes me pass out. I must have lost consciousness when Farid shot me. No, I definitely remember waking up. I think they were trying to move me? That’s when Farid stabbed me with this feather and I passed out again.
What kind of overgrown bird is he?
My anger simmers. I want retribution for what’s happening. But I know there’s no hope. I’ve always known that the moment my sire captured me—that was it. My life was over.
I’ve been fooling myself into thinking I could have the life I wanted. That I could be with Gracie and Vyslan. I got so swept up in the fantasy of it, I forgot reality. How every good thing in my life gets ripped away.
A woman with a gray complexion and a familiar face leans over me. There’s no flicker of recognition or emotion as she studies me like an insect pinned to a board.
I’ve seen her many times, though her name escapes me. She never speaks, but her wife is chatty. Nice. Kind.
She and her wife are steady clients at Witchweed. Briella does home deliveries for them, but every so often they come into the shop. This is someone I know.
“The bond does appear to have been severed, sir,” she says in a cold, inflectionless voice.
“How? How? How?” Treznor snarls as he paces. His gray bathrobe flings out around him as he whirls and continues his pacing.
The way Treznor is dressed makes me think of a cheap, knock-off version of The Dude from The Big Lebowski.
I would never disgrace the name of Jeff Bridges by voicing that comparison out loud.
That would be an insult to the actor. Treznor is unwashed, unkempt, and unintelligible. How the fuck is it he’s in charge?
The liche woman grips my jaw and turns my face. “It’s hard to say…”
A bit of shadow moves off to one side, and my eyes latch onto it. My heart beats a little faster. I can’t help but hope that this nightmare will end. That there will be a way out of this hell.
But, no. It’s just the vampire that jumped me at my apartment. He stands in the meager shadows, watching me with wide eyes and a slack jaw. There’s something familiar about the stare, though. Almost as if he, too, shares my hope.
Too late, I realize Treznor is watching me. He whirls, and his gaze lands on the other vampire. Snarling, he launches himself across the space and grabs the vampire by the shirt, shredding it and digging into the guy's skin with his crusty, yellowed nails.
“Worm. Worm. Worm! I see you. Do you hear me? I see you! That won’t be you. You won’t get away. You are mine. Mine. Mine!”
Treznor flings the grown-ass man across the space and out of my field of vision. I hear his body hit the metal grate floor and go rolling.
“Get out of here, you worm,” another deep voice commands.
There’s scrambling, and I think the other vampire has fled.
Then again, if the guy were a full vampire, he wouldn’t be here. Treznor wouldn’t allow for it. From what I’ve read and heard, they’re highly territorial. So the guy has to be a thrall, or something else in-between. I haven’t asked many questions, and Gracie hasn’t offered a lot of information.
Did I make a mistake not telling Gracie about the thralls coming to my apartment? Or the ones I’ve killed? Could we have helped them?
No, at a certain point, the mind and soul are gone and all that’s left is an obedient corpse.
That much I’ve figured out. That’s the plight of so many I’ve been forced to kill.
There’s no more awareness behind their vacant eyes.
Just obedience and death. Puppets for Treznor to use as he wishes, with no thought or care about the person inside that husk.
A large, imposing man comes to stand on the opposite side from the woman.
He regards me dispassionately. He could be carved from stone for all the emotion he shows.
There’s something about him that is decidedly not human.
After all, the only man I’ve seen that could rival him in terms of proportions is Vyslan.
“Here, take a look at this sample,” the liche lady says.
I close my eyes. No part of me wants to see what the sample is.
I bite the inside of my mouth. There’s this knot inside my mind.
It has to be my emotions. They’re stuffed down deep, but every now and then I can feel.
And right now there’s this almost overwhelming urge to fall apart and cry, regardless of how unmanly that might be.
It’s like my life is stuck in this cycle.
I figure out how to be happy, and it all gets yanked away from me.
“There’s nothing about this that says thrall,” the man says after a moment.
“How? How? How?” Treznor demands.
I’ve got serious questions about the mental faculties of the people supporting this lunatic.
The woman leans back, arms crossed over her pristine white blouse. “If we look at the obvious answers, it must be a witch. Perhaps one of the three that employs him?”
Treznor hisses. Like a straight-up house cat, his.
“Messing with the coven could cause problems,” the man says.
“And allowing the knowledge of how to break a sire bond wouldn’t?” the liche lady snaps back.
The big guy shrugs. “I don’t see it going well for us if we have to tangle with them. We need to pick our battles.”
“Unacceptable! Intolerable. Impermissible,” Treznor chants. At least he has a wider vocabulary.
The big guy sighs, lifts his shoulders, and rolls his eyes.
There’s a commotion. Some clanging. Almost like a scuffle of some kind.
The liche lady turns her head and frowns. I can’t remember ever speaking to her. It was always her wife that made orders and chatted whenever they came into the shop.
“Stop!” a distant voice shouts.
Metal hits metal.
I turn my head, which makes my stomach swim and churn.
Farid staggers into the room. Golden wings arch over his shoulders, each longer than he is tall. His dark, shoulder-length hair is loose. His shirt is shredded.
“Where is my mother?” he demands.
Oh. Oh.
The pieces fall into place. This makes so much more sense.
I couldn’t fathom why Farid, someone who had gone out of his way to be a friend to me when he didn’t have to, would betray me so easily. But if someone I loved was in danger? If it was Gracie? I’d do it too.
“Your mother is our guest,” the liche lady says.
I highly doubt anyone wants to be Treznor’s guest.
“This is not what we agreed, vampire.” The way Farid says vampire sounds more like scum.
Treznor straightens and stares across the space at Farid. “The agreement is what I say it is.”
Huh. A whole sentence without repeating himself. That’s unusual.
Farid’s face flushes red with rage, and he lunges forward. “Give me back my mother!”
He runs face-first into some sort of invisible wall.
Treznor begins to laugh maniacally. He makes some sort of hand gesture, and Farid goes flying back through the double doors he entered.
Holy fucking shit. He can do that?
“Do not return until called for, degenerate.” Treznor grins and cackles with glee. There’s an unsettling twinkle in his eye that makes me think all is not well. And I will regret what comes next.